


tumblr fics

by missakwatson



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Anal Sex, Criminal Derek Hale, Deputy Derek Hale, Detective Stiles, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sick Character, Tumblr Fic, altered carbon au, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-18 02:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missakwatson/pseuds/missakwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of ficlets that I originally posted on tumblr. Come join me at sourwolfandlionheart.tumblr.com!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stiles has the Flu

“No.”

The voice that came from the mound of quilts and afghans was weak and a tired. Derek felt his heart trip, senses immediately attuned to the distress of a pack member.

“You didn’t come to the meeting.”

A tuft of brown hair emerged from the bunker of blankets, followed by Stiles’ bleary amber eyes.

“Which warrants breaking and entering. Got it.”

Derek’s brow furrowed, his nose filling with the scent of sweat and bile. “You’re sick.”

“How ever did you guess?” Stiles grumbled, hoisting the blankets back up over his eyes.

Derek rolled his eyes, but his face softened fleetingly. He knew Stiles was being sarcastic, but he answered honestly anyway. “You smell… sour.”

“That’s disgusting,” Stiles replied flatly.

“You asked.”

Stiles huffed and shoved his face back under his pillow. “Okay, big guy. You got me. I’m sorry I missed the meeting, and I’m assuming you’re here to tell me that I should be sorry. Very sorry. I get it.”

Derek chose to ignore Stiles’ sharp tone, letting his forehead crease in concern as he hesitantly sat down in Stiles’ desk chair. “You’ve been throwing up?”

Stiles gave an exaggerated groan as he rolled onto his back, his capacity for bravado apparently not diminished by a bout of… whatever this was.

“Yes, you weirdo. I threw up this morning. It’s probably…” he trailed off, squinting at the uncharacteristic concern written on Derek’s face. “Wait. You’ve never had the stomach flu, have you?” he asked, an almost tender smile ghosting across his lips.

The tips of Derek’s ears reddened as he looked away. “No. I mean, we just don’t get… sick. If we’re hurt, really hurt, or older, then it’s possible, but…” Derek trailed off, but Stiles refused to fill the silence until he finished his thought.

“My cousins, though.” _Some of them were human._ Stiles knew, and Derek knew he knew.

“Bella, she was the youngest. Laura and I were babysitting one time when she started crying and got… hot. Really hot. Like one of us. It was probably the first time I ever saw Laura actually panic, and my dad’s sister just laughed at us when we finally got ahold of her.”

Derek smiled at the memory. He could finally do that now, at least when he thought of things that happened before the fire. The warmth of remembering his family hung in the air for a moment, almost tangible even to Stiles.

Stiles picked at a stray bit of fringe on his afghan, acutely aware that that short bit of reminiscing was the most personal information Derek had ever shared with Stiles at once.

“My mom used to always take off work when I was sick, even once I was old enough to stay home alone. She made soup and stuff. All the stuff… humans do when their kids get sick. I know she still would. I just do. I mostly sleep anyway so it’s fine that dad can’t but it’s … You know. Boring.”

“Being sick?”

“Being alone.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do know.”

Another pregnant pause hung in the air. Derek broke the silence this time. “So what kind of soup did she make?”

“Chicken noodle. Duh,” Stiles replied with a smile.

“Duh. Well, then you’re in luck, because even though werewolves don’t get sick, some of us make pretty good chicken noodle soup.”

“You’re making me soup,” Stiles replied flatly.

“I’m making you soup,” Derek replied, standing and moving towards the door.

“Why?”

Derek turned around, observing Stiles with with a frustratingly, typically unreadable expression.

“Because you’re sick,” Derek answered as he turned back towards the hallway.

“We’re talking about this later,” Stiles called after him weakly.

“Mhm,” he heard Derek hum.

“Stupid werewolf hearing.”

“I can still hear you, Stiles.”

He heard him mutter _thanks, Derek_ too, soft and earnest and devoid of any sarcasm.

He was determined to take care of his pack. All of them, wolves and humans, regardless of how he felt about them at times. But he knew deep down that he sure as hell loved Stiles, and he was starting to think that Stiles was catching on.


	2. Deputy Derek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is smut (◡‿◡✿)

Derek sighed, setting his coffee mug onto his desk with a clunk and tossing his phone down next to it.

“Morning, sunshine,” Parrish smirked, nodding in Derek’s direction.

“Shut up,” Derek muttered, voice devoid of heat. He began flipping through the files on his desk, looking for the form he needed, when his phone buzzed. _Stiles Stilinski, iMessage. 1 Attachment._ Derek glanced around him furtively before unlocking his phone, a lesson he had learned the hard way after once opening an unexpected dick pic within Kira’s eyeshot. 

 

_Morning, baby. Sorry I didn’t wake up when you left :)_ The picture was a quick shot of Stiles’ view, his long fingers wrapped lazily against his hard, pink cock. _I forgive you_ , Derek replied. _But only if you save that for me._

_Too late_ , Stiles shot back. _An officer of the law might need to teach me the error of my ways later tonight._

Yeah, today was going to be a long day.

***  
Derek practically bolted from the Sheriff’s station as soon as his shift was over. He didn’t see or hear Stiles when he entered his apartment, but he could smell the thick scent of his boyfriend’s arousal as he approached his bedroom. Derek’s breath hitched when he opened the door - Stiles was sprawled casually on his neatly made bed, browsing the Internet on his phone and wearing nothing but a pair of lacy black panties. Stiles knew exactly what those panties did to Derek, and his cock twitched at the show his boyfriend was putting on. 

“Good evening, Officer Hale,” Stiles said as he set his phone on the night stand. “How can I help you?”

Derek rested his hands on his belt, taking his time to admire the sight of Stiles stretched out in front of him.

“Stand up.”

Stiles obliged, stepping close enough for Derek to touch. He raised his chin defiantly. 

“Bend over the side of the bed.” 

After Stiles complied, Derek made a show of pulling down his panties. He nosed at Stiles’ ass, nipping at his firm, smooth cheeks. His heart began to race as he traced the flared black base hiding Stiles’ entrance. “Did you get yourself ready for me?” 

Stiles nodded against the blankets. “Yes. But I didn’t let myself come.”

Derek’s wolf flared, and he had to take a breath to silence the urge to shift. “Good boy.” He worked the toy around in Stiles’ hole for a few moments, making sure it stroked firmly against his prostate as he removed it. Stiles whimpered at the sensation. Derek’s hands left Stiles’ body just long enough to unbuckle his belt and unzip his fly. He freed his cock, barely resting the tip against Stiles’ opening. 

Derek paused, resting his hand on the small of Stiles’ back. “Color?” he asked. Stiles smirked and pushed back against Derek. “Green.” The moment Derek confirmed Stiles’ enthusiasm, he pushed himself into his partner, nearly shuddering at the soft, slick warmth that enveloped him. Stiles whimpered at the sudden stretch, but his eyes darkened with determination. “Fuck me, Officer. Please.” Derek gripped Stiles’ hips with the exact pressure he knew he loved, a secure hold almost certain to leave bruises for Derek to kiss and stroke later. He began to move Stiles roughly, hips snapping against his boyfriend’s ass with every rapid thrust. As Stiles whimpered with pleasure, Derek couldn’t help but slow his movements and angle his hips just enough to graze Stiles’ prostate with every thrust. “Fuck,” Stiles whispered harshly, pushing back to meet Derek’s every stroke. Derek lost himself in the sharp, satisfying sound of skin meeting skin and the ragged harmony of their breathing. His chest filled as their scent - their scent, rich and comforting and spiked with salt and musk when they fucked - surrounded him. “I’m not… Shit, Derek.” “You’re not what?” Derek asked, smirking at the way Stiles had come undone so quickly. “I’m not going to last very long, Officer.” “Good,” Derek growled, doubling his pace against Stiles’ ass. It felt like only a handful of minutes had passed before Derek felt Stiles clench around him, Derek’s name leaving his lips in a breathy sigh. A few firm, deep pumps later, Derek’s orgasm followed, pleasure coursing through him and electrifying every point of contact with Stiles’ skin. Derek’s wolf preened at the sensation of filling his mate, and he rested inside Stiles for just a moment to indulge it. He felt his partner’s heartbeat sing beneath him, strong and fast and full of life. Derek kissed Stiles on the temple and carefully separated himself from the other man, not bothering to refasten his pants as he quickly stepped into the bathroom and soaked a washcloth with warm water. He set the washcloth aside long enough to strip out of his uniform, leaving the khaki clothes abandoned on the tile floor. All that mattered now was taking care of Stiles. Derek returned to his bed, draping his body over his mate’s back and peppering his neck with soft kisses as he expertly stroked away the mess covering Stiles’ stomach and spilling out of his ass. “Hey, baby,” he murmured, smiling against Stiles’ warm, sweat-dampened skin. Stiles turned his head, a smile crinkling the edges of his glowing amber eyes. “Hey, Deputy.” 

Derek moved to sit back against the headboard of the bed, scooping both Stiles and the plush throw next to him into his lap. Stiles immediately leaned in to press his lips to Derek’s. “How was work?” 

Derek made a noncommittal sound as he dragged his jaw over Stiles’, scenting his mate in a gesture that they had both come to take comfort in. “Not as good as coming home.”

Stiles laughed, pressing his head against Derek’s chest. “I love making you feel good.”

Derek smoothed Stiles’ soft hair and gathered his body closer to his own. “I love you, _kochanie_.” 

“I love you too, Der.”


	3. the altered carbon au no one asked for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Tumblr: Just kidding. I asked for this, and then I wrote it, because I’m avoiding work and I have no self control. This also kind of blended with a White Collar AU suggestion I read earlier this week. Anyway, writing this was a nice palate cleanser and maybe someone will read it! (Also, I don’t think you actually need to have watched Altered Carbon to get this; the gist is that human brains/consciousness are downloaded to and stored in these little spinal implants. When you die, if you have the money, you can be plugged, or "spun" into a new body. Criminals and those whose devices are in storage are “on ice.”)

“Stilinski?” Danny’s face crackled to life in the corner of Stiles’ screen.

“Yo, Danny. What’s up?” Stiles slid the call into the middle of the glass pane, minimizing the other notes and feeds crowding the space.

“Got your guy spun up. He’s ready in room 3.”

Stiles scoffed. “Took ‘em long enough. Thanks, Danny.”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t particularly seem to care for resleeving. Almost knocked Finstock out cold with a supply tray before we got his sister to tell him to calm the fuck down so we could transfer him over to the precinct,” Danny said, still unflappably calm considering the unusual circumstances.

“Jesus.” Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face, took a deep breath, and grabbed his coffee as he closed out of the call and stood up. This day -- no, this _month_ \-- had been too fucking much.

 

***

 

“Derek Hale. Fifteen years for forgery, armed robbery and grand theft auto to top it off,” Stiles said by way of greeting as he stepped into the small interrogation room.

Derek remained completely silent, eerily still as he glared at Stiles from his chair.

“Detective Stiles Stilinski. Nice to meet you too,” Stiles sighed, dropping into the other chair and letting Hale’s file fall to the table with a slap.

“Why the fuck am I here?” Derek growled, voice seething with the same anger and tension that radiated from his taut, defensive posture.

Stiles rolled his eyes with a _tsk_. “Now, Mr. Hale, your sister paid a pretty penny to get your original sleeve back. I just have a few questions for you, and if you cooperate, we won’t have to put you back on ice for the rest of your sentence. I think it was another what -- twelve years?” Stiles hated playing the bad cop, but it wasn’t like he had a choice between this guy’s attitude and the downright shitty circumstances that had brought him here.

Derek leaned forward and stared Stiles dead in the eye. “Why the _fuck_ am I here?”

Stiles sighed, actively trying to soften his tone and attempting not to let his _shitty fucking week_ interfere with what was probably an equally shitty and terrifying day for the man sitting across from him.

“We know you got set up. And we know who did it,” Stiles said, pausing carefully to gauge Hale’s reaction.

Derek’s nostrils flared. His frown deepened -- which Stiles truly hadn’t thought was even possible -- but he remained silent, choosing instead to continue attempting to bore into Stiles’ skull through sheer odious willpower.

Stiles sighed again and leaned back in his chair. “Why’d you do it, Hale? Why’d you cover for Kate?”

He thought he saw Derek flinch nearly imperceptibly when he said her name. Kate Argent was one of the world’s most infamous white collar criminals, and Derek had been working as one of her close backups when he got brought in after a museum robbery in Bay City a few years back.

Derek’s gaze finally shifted. “Who… who said I covered for her?”

“The evidence. We picked her up again last week. She had her niece working with her this time. The niece took a plea bargain in exchange for all her backups of Kate’s files. We found the doctored footage, Hale. You weren’t anywhere near Bay City that night,” Stiles said, carefully noting the way Hale’s eyes fell blank as he spoke.

“So,” Stiles asked again, leaning forward. “Why did you cover for her? Cash? Dirt? Love?” The rest of the precinct had their money on the last one. Stiles didn’t.

Derek snorted. “Sure as fuck wasn’t love. But… I thought it was. She had me brainwashed. Had all of us brainwashed. When she started threatening to use my sister as leverage, I told her I was going to try and get out. She didn’t want me going to the cops, so… It was either slag me, or leave me on ice.”

“Why didn’t she slag you?” Stiles knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from Hale. He wanted to make sure he was about to make the correct decision by offering what he had in mind.

“You already know why. You know who my parents are, Detective,” Derek scoffed.

Stiles smirked. Hale had a pretty face, but he didn’t make it in as deeply as he did by being stupid.

“I do know. Not exactly sure how James and Talia Hale’s kid ends up a professional forger, but I’ve seen weirder shit on a regular Monday here.”

Derek cracked a small smile. “The kind of people we sold to had so much money, it made them stupid. You know the type,” he said with a shrug.

Stiles laughed. Yeah, he did know the type, and they were a fucking pain in the ass when they found out they’d been duped. If Stiles was being honest, art forgery was literally at the bottom of his priority list when it came to the types of crimes that went in and out of BCPD. But the Meths had the money and the time to get what they wanted -- petty revenge.

Derek finally moved, uncrossing his arms and folding his hands carefully in his lap. “Not that this hasn’t been great, Detective, but am I free to go? I have... a lot to catch up on.”

Three years on ice. For as distant as Derek had clearly become from his family, Stiles couldn’t imagine losing that much time. Derek was lucky that Kate had gotten caught as relatively early into his sentence as she had. Stiles cleared his throat and leaned back, appraising Hale before answering.

“Your pardon went through today. However, there’s still the matter of all the stuff we have evidence on you for. The backups, remember?” Stiles tried to break the news gently, still feeling sympathetic despite Hale’s demonstrated criminal streak.

Hale’s face fell so quickly that Stiles almost had to look away, until it turned back into a mask of  anger and resolve.

“So you woke me up just to tell me that you’re fucking putting me back on ice for the rest of my goddamn life?” His voice was a snarl, but Stiles could hear the fear underneath the words.

“And let your sister pay for your sleeve just so we could dick you over for a few minutes? Don’t worry. Not my style,” Stiles said, watching some of the tension leave Derek’s shoulders.

“So,” he continued. “To answer your question and tell you why the _fuck_ you’re here, as you so elegantly put it, I wanted to bring you in. Explain what’s going on. You’re pardoned for the Bay City case, since we can prove you got set up. All things being equal -- primarily, the Chief and I not giving a rat’s ass about a couple dickhead Meths getting sold some fake Picassos -- we talked the DA into reducing your sentence down to time served. There’s still the matter of your probation, though.” Stiles paused, giving Derek time to process the information.

“They were Monets, actually, but keep talking.”

“God forbid. Anyway, probation. I really don’t want to deal with the paperwork, and I’d be willing to bet a decent chunk of change that you have little to no interest in wearing an ankle monitor. If you’d even keep it on for a day without hacking it off,” Stiles replied.

“You read that in my file? I’m touched by the attention to detail,” Hale said, cocking an eyebrow.

Stiles scoffed, internally scolding himself for finding verbally sparring with an ex-con this fucking hot. It’d been a while, okay?

“Of course. I’m a cop’s kid with a contrarian streak a mile wide, and even I never managed to pull that off.” Stiles’ stomach swooped oddly as Derek laughed again.

“So here’s my offer. Work with us, and there will be no babysitters. No ankle monitors. You can walk out of this building and light a fucking joint before you’re out the door, for all I care. But you have something we can use, and we can use it to actually help people,” Stiles said, lacing his words with as much sincerity and urgency as he could. He truly believed Hale was something special, and the probation paperwork was a pain in his ass that he _really_ didn’t need.

Derek smirked. “Seems like you get the better end of the deal, Detective. How long am I on your leash?”

“Eighteen months. Same amount of time you’d be on probation. We’ll work on a contract basis -- an honest job, with an honest salary that you can tell your parents and sister about. Eighteen months go by, and we can decide if it’s still a mutually beneficial arrangement.” Stiles didn’t like playing the sister card, but it was clearly a weak point for both siblings and for whatever reason, he really wanted Derek to take his offer. He wanted to know what made the infamous Derek Hale tick, even if was in the decidedly uptight realm of the precinct.

Derek took a deep breath. “Alright. I’ll take your offer, Detective Stilinski.”

Stiles couldn’t help his smile. He held out his hand across the table, the back of his neck tingling as Derek’s strong fingers wrapped around his. “Call me Stiles. Welcome to the team, Mr. Hale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Join me on tumblr to yell about Sterek at [sourwolfandlionheart](http://sourwolfandlionheart.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
